


shatter

by aeriamamaduck



Series: Cyrodiil's Child [17]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Anxiety, Changing Tenses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear, Fear of Death, Freeform, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Martin Septim is an anxious boy, Minerva Saturnius is an anxious girl, POV Multiple, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, POV switch, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Stream of Consciousness, Survivor Guilt, self-perception
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8699299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: It gets harder with every breath.





	

_**Minerva** _

It starts like thick smoke rising up in your throat, your jaw clenching hard in instinctual resistance.

Tension in your chest. A persistent drumming from within, stronger than you usually feel it. Yes, that's your heart, stubbornly beating even after everything.

You struggle to count every undeserved beat but it just goes faster and faster as if it knows it could have stopped,  _should have_ stopped instead of some other person's. 

Why are you alive?

_Because the Emperor saw me in his dreams. He saw me save Martin. He knew we'd save Cyrodiil._

No. That's certainly not true.

Countless people are dead.

What have  _you_ done?

It feels like your chest is shattering with every hard beat, and in their wake come aftershocks that leave you shaking, down to the pit of your stomach. 

You want to lie down, wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and forget everything that's happened. Don't think about the charred corpses littering Kvatch, gutted houses and dismembered bodies hanging like trophies from the ceilings of the sigil towers. 

You were too late.

_I'm trying. I'm trying to stop this. I want to stop this._

You couldn't even save Farwil.

Remember him?

That little boy who played at being a knight?

You couldn't help resenting him for it, right? How he saw it all as a game, how he thought it'd be so easy to close the Oblivion Gate.

_He didn't deserve to die, he was just a boy._

Old enough to know what he was getting into, wasn't he?

Stop breathing like that. Stop sweating. It's cold in here.

 _Too cold_.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!_

"Minerva?"

That voice.

You're snapped out of your thoughts. Or maybe it pushes you even deeper, drowning you in heavy liquid that's gathering in your chest, and it somehow keeps your heart racing like a hunted hare. 

Don't shake.  _ **Don't flinch**_. 

Don't let him see you're afraid.

Be who he thinks you are. Keep it up, keep the mask on, keep showing him you're worth believing in. 

Shut up, shut up. Stop SHAKING damn you. Breathe normally.

_I can't breathe, I can't breathe_ _. I need_

You don't need anything. You can handle this. 

Stay on your knees, don't even acknowledge his entrance. It's just the two of you. No one else has to know you're falling apart. Just stop shaking.

He doesn't speak again when he sees you on your knees before the little altar to Talos the Blades have set up. He too runs to prayer like it's shelter from the cold, a violent storm, horrible heat. He knows what it's like to kneel and beg for reassurance, for a sign that it's not just fire, death, and red skies. 

You can't pray.

You couldn't even find the right words anymore.

You're on your knees before your father's god and can't even speak to Him.

It's just as well. He knows how unworthy you are. Would He even want to hear anything you have to say?

Keep your back straight, don't cry again.

Don't let him see. Don't let Martin see. 

Don't speak to the gods.

_Why?_

Yes. Why?

You've spoken to them all your life? Why should this be any different? They listen. They love you. You are so lucky. So lucky that you're alive when so many died screaming.

 _Stop_.

The Nine know you. They've known you since you were born.

"You're shaking..."

Martin finally breaks the silence, his warm hands curling over your shoulders.

_Martin Martin Martin..._

No. His touch doesn't bring relief. Don't act like it does. You don't deserve relief. 

Another crack in the dam.

Don't shake.

_Too late._

Stop shaking, stop crying.

A whimper escapes past your lips and it's too late to cover your mouth. Fuck, you really can't do anything right, can't you? Uriel wanted you to help save Tamriel, not sit there and cry like a child while it all burns down around you.

How funny.

You didn't know how anyone can hate themselves as much as Martin does.

Not until now. 

Get up. Get up and get out. Don't make it worse. That's it you're on your feet so go. Walk out of the room, fight the ache in your throat, no one's choking you.

 _Yes they are_.

 _I can't move_.

No no no, don't cry, don't cry.

He's touching you.

He's holding you.

Don't fall apart, please stay upright, you're going to be fine, you're the  _Hero of Kvatch_ , Martin's counting on you, so is the rest of Tamriel, you can do this, you're better than Farwil. You're not afraid. You knew you'd probably die young the second your parents put a sword in your hand. The most you can do is make your death worthwhile. You won't die like he did, eyes wide with terror before the light leaves them. You can make it, you are the best. You are  **fearless**.

_I'm not._

* * *

 

**_Martin_ **

Something's wrong.

You know it when you find Minerva trembling even though the room is warm.

It's the same cold you feel day in and day out, one that signals dread, waiting for the next tragedy, waiting to hear that she's been killed and you were the one who sent her to her death.

It's your fault, all of it.

_She's alive. She's right here in front of me._

_Please talk to me, tell me you're alright_.

She's not, how can she be? You give her new horrors every time you send her away. Why her? Why does it have to be her? Why did your father's dreams have to ruin her life? Why did you fall in love with her?

You can barely stand to look at yourself in the mirror, so why subject her to your past, your guilt, your weakness? 

_She accepted me. She loves me._

She loves a lie.

_No. She wouldn't accept a lie. She knows me. She's the only person alive who knows what I am._

Then why won't she answer you? Why won't she turn to you?

"You're shaking..."

Of course she is, you idiot, and you've only made it worse.

Hold on to her.

On second thought, don't. Your touch must be horrible to feel.

_I'm here, I'm here, my love. Why are you crying? What's wrong? What can I do?_

She's holding on to you. Don't fall apart, she's depending on you. What can you do? You can open yourself to the Xarxes's secrets, risk everything, delve into Camoran's mind even if he tears your soul apart in return. It's the least you can do.

Too many people are dead because of you, and you can't let Minerva join their numbers.

_"Martin..."_

She can barely speak,  **say something**.

"I've got you. You're safe, I'm here, I swear. I won't leave..."

_I love you. I love you so much, how can this keep happening to you? Why should you have to die for me?_

She knows what she's doing. Always has. She's better than you were at that age, with all the control and discipline you lacked. She should have been your father's child. Both fathers. She should have been Uriel's heir, not some wreck of a mage who hid among the faithful like a coward when he should have died on that field.

_I didn't hide. I have faith in the gods. She helps me keep it._

Why do you live?

Why you instead of your brothers' children?

What makes you think you can rule?

_Please, stop._

You're afraid and you can't even hide it. You pour your heart out every day, you're likely a joke to the Blades who have served  _true_ dragons. You could never be a dragon.

_"I'm so scared...I don't...I don't want to die..."_

_Of course you don't. Of course you're afraid, how could you not be? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry._

She's not even twenty. It's so easy for you to forget that. She's so strong, stronger than you are, and she's only beginning to crumble now. 

And you know she'll get up again soon.

This is a momentary lapse.

She knows her duty, she's good that way. 

Better than you.

"Shh...Shh, it's fine..."

Alright. Don't listen. Trust yourself, if you can. 

How long do you think you can keep each other safe?

~

* * *

 

~

Minerva's breathing evened out, the tension in her body releasing as her cheek lay on Martin's steady shoulder. Her hand relaxed over the quick beat of his heart and she knew he was worried about her. 

Martin pressed his lips to her hair, praying she knew just how grateful he was for everything. That he understood why she was afraid, that he didn't resent her for it.

He looked down at her, keeping their foreheads pressed together as she matched her breaths to his, his heart aching with even that thin connection between them. "Are you alright?"

She let out a long exhale, her eyes looking at him steadily even as tears flowed from them. "I think so," she whispered, urging herself to believe it. "I think so."

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, that was totally Flemeth's line. :)
> 
>  **My tumblr** : aeriamamaduck


End file.
